


full of smiles like razor edges

by luffia



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luffia/pseuds/luffia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A truth should just exist," Loretta warned her. "it should not be used like this. If he loves you, is that a fact or a weapon?"</p><p>Alex looks at skies the color of ink and listens to white noise everywhere, like silence but less empty. She wonders if that's how Nicolas' world feels like, or if his brand of quiet is ten octaves darker, the kind that engulfs and devours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	full of smiles like razor edges

Nicolas has never missed his hearing. Not even when he's at _Bastard_ , looking at the enraptured faces of the audience, wondering what kind of sound is capable of producing such liquid adoration. However, he can  _feel_ it, crashing like waves against his ribs, and he thinks that is much better. He leans against the speaker, and lets it vibrate through him. Alex is smiling, dizzyingly happy, and he thinks the curve of her mouth could rewrite history.

Worick says Alex is very attractive. Nic trusts his partner's experience with women, and he recognizes that she fits the standard: long legs; large eyes; a curvaceous, generous figure. Most importantly though, she is kind, and she is brave, and she stands up for others. He didn't know if she looked nice. But watching her long fingers attempt to sign stirred something long buried inside him.

Nicolas closes his eyes because there's something about this, or her, that makes this fucked up universe hold together for a second.

 

:::

 

 "So. You managed to calm Nicolas down."

"I did."

The head of the Cristiano family thinks of Marco's shattered expression when he learned Connie's fate; of the tragedy of Delico and Erica; of both of the men's grim, suicidal determination. She sees it mirrored in how the crushing grip of a Twilight's berserk rage turned soft for the dark skinned woman.

"In this game of prey and murder," Loretta warns, "that is a dangerous thing."

The girl raises her eyes and Alex flinches. She will  _never_ get used to the dichotomy that is Loretta, how she shifts from stubborn brat to seasoned mafia head. She looks up at Alex with old eyes, eyes that know pain, know blood. What kind of world did they live in, where children got dragged into war? She was sure that at fourteen, Loretta had seen more spilled guts than her, and she was still older than Nicolas when he started slaughtering people with his own hands and gleaming weapon.

"A truth should just exist," she continues. "it should not be used like this. If he loves you, is that a fact or a weapon?"

Alex resists the childish urge to stomp her feet and deny any feelings resembling anything close to  _love_.  "I suppose it depends who you ask," she finally answers.

"No. No it doesn't," Loretta says, because Nicolas is  _dangerous_ , and Alex would do well to remember that.

 

::: 

 

It's raining. That in itself is not so strange, it often rains in Ergastulum. It is, however, not the usual ugly drizzle. Unlike the thin droplets that almost seem like acid, the ones that only enhance the grime and the dirt; today it rains like it's pouring, like the heavens are determined to wash away the sprawling sordidness.

Alex looks at skies the color of ink and listens to the white noise everywhere, like silence but less empty. She wonders if that's how Nicolas' world feels like, or if his brand of quiet is ten octaves darker, the kind that engulfs and devours.

When she enters the house, she finds Nic collapsed on the couch, forearm draped over his forehead. Alex studies his face, catches the dark circles around his eyes, the last fading traces of blood and bruises spread across his collarbone and up his neck, the rough split on his leg and the bandages around his torso, and the way that despite everything, his gaze is still desperately sad.

He'd always been bonier, leaner than Worick, and it has never been more noticeable than now. "I'm home," Nic signs, noticing her presence. Alex hovers near the door uncertainly, gulps down, and then Nic shifts his eyes towards her, signals her to move closer.

Nicolas's smiles are like a razor blade: sweltering hot and sharp enough to cut through flesh. This time, however, he looks at her like he did when he broke through the haze of pain at Dr. Theo's clinic. It's gentler, more vulnerable. He looks at her with an odd longing, and when Alex takes a seat next to him, he buries his face in her neck, inhales deeply.

Alex tenses at the feel of arms clutching to her and the sharp press of bones, snaps her eyes shut and hears Barry telling her  _this is all you're ever going to get you good for nothing whore_. She waits, but the quiet stretches on, so when he doesn't make a move she hooks a leg over his body to straddle him, grabs his face, and kisses him.

It's good. His lips are chapped like deserts and war, but his mouth is warm and inviting as she coaxes it open with her tongue. He tastes of spiced blood oranges and something earthy, more grounded and bitter, like burnt sugar or gunpowder curling at the back of her throat. He lets out a tiny huff as Alex licks inside his mouth, and she judges him ready for the next step. She grinds down against his hips and moans against his mouth.

He sucks in a breath, his spine immediately going tight-wire. Taking it as a sign of want, Alex sets her hand on his crotch.

Nicolas positively  _flinches_ , and whips his head to the side so fast that their teeth clang together painfully. His face is burning red and his mouth curves around sounds he seems incapable of uttering. He looks furious. _This was a mistake_ _._

"I-I'm sorry," she stammers, "I'm so sorry, Nicolas. I'll leave."

Yet he grabs her wrist before she can lift herself up, tugs her back down. His hands straighten as he signs her to stop. Alex stares back in confusion, because doesn't he  _get_  it? There is no holiness left in her bones. Nicolas sighs, gently takes her hands and rests his forehead against hers. "NOt tHAt," he breathes, husky. The tips of his fingers ghost over her cheek "i DOn'T waNt tHAt."

Instead, he bends her body, stretches her along the couch and he lays beside her, their limbs a tangle, his frame curving around her. His breathing is soft and even, and Alex gradually relaxes, lets herself melt against his chest.

 _It's okay_ , she realizes. _I'm okay_.

"Nicolas?" she murmurs, belatedly realizes that he can't hear her. She twists inside the cradle of his embrace to face him, waits for Nic to lazily flick one eye open, and then repeats his name. He huffs in response, tightens his arms around her. Alex smiles, makes sure to mouth her next words carefully.

"Welcome home."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This is post-34.  
> 2\. I headcanon Nico as asexual.  
> 3\. I've been marathoning Gangsta for the past two days and I am head over heels. Strong ladies, a diverse and interesting cast, and a fascinating world and storyline? I love it.
> 
> 4\. Omake! Imagine Worick coming home to THAT cuddle pile ;)


End file.
